


A Wanted Man

by Melda_Burke



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bandits and bank robberies, Blood and Gore, DF!Papyrus is a southern gentleman, DF!Sans is a lonesome cowboy, F/M, Gotta love these good ol' boys, Gun Violence, I created Deadfell, Please don't repost without my permission, Shootouts at the Not Okay Corral, Six shooters and six string guitars, This is one of my Fell-verses so you know the Fangs are here too, We have tsundere skeletons galore, Welcome to Deadfell, Wild West Outlaws, gunsmoke - Freeform, hope you guys enjoy it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-05-02 12:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19198885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melda_Burke/pseuds/Melda_Burke
Summary: Life in your little town was peaceful until the day you decided to sneak out to pick prickly pears. Instead, you found an entirely different kind of cactus in your secret spot, and now that prickly, grumpy monster owes you his life. These days, he's sleeping in the barn, taking care of the horses, and working his way deeper into your heart with all the stabby, bloody finesse of a porcupine quill.~It's high noon here in the tumble-down town of Ebotton, and Red's got a few scores to settle. Don't forget to bring your Colt .44 magnums and cowboy hats everybody, 'cuz there's gonna be blood... and you really don't want it to be yours.~





	1. The Lone Fell-er

The ground was cracked, dry, and nearly barren as it stretched out around you in all directions. From above, the sun burned hot as the eye of the devil peering down on all his minions in hell… because this  _ was _ hell. At least, that’s what it felt like compared to the cooler, humid swamps of Louisiana from which you’d come at the young age of five. Despite having spent the majority of your life in Ebotton, a small town in the middle of western nowhere, you still couldn’t get used to all aspects of life here. 

Though you barely remembered the bayou your late Cajun papa dragged you both from in search of gold and a better life, what you did remember was a lot more shade and a heck of a lot more water than this dusty railway town. Regardless of how you felt about the heat, there were many things you did love about being out west.

The prickly pears, for instance, were something you simply couldn’t get enough of. Their pads were wonderful for salads, added flavor to soups, and their fruits were absolutely to die for. Your prickly pear jelly was beyond compare and had won several local canning competitions, even when tested against Miss Molly’s pickled watermelon rind.

And those prickly pears were precisely the reason you were willing to stay out in this godsforsaken heat in the first place. Otherwise, you’d have been inside with a hand fan and the curtains drawn, but no. Today, you were on your way to your secret cacti patch. It was thick with an overgrowth of those thorny delicacies, which you would harvest in abundance, then triumphantly haul back to spend the evening shucking pads and fruits of their prickles.

Well, that’s what you had  _ hoped  _ for, but upon reaching your desired destination you’d come across the strangest sight. A circle of vultures had been parading the patch as soon as you’d walked up and obviously been there for a while before. Curious as a cat outside a creamery, you approached to get an idea of what all the commotion was about.

There, lying in the middle of one of the thickest areas of the entire expanse, you saw a body. “Oh my stars and garters!” You picked up the skirt of your dress as you crossed the distance between the two of you as quickly, yet carefully, as you could manage. “Sir! Sir, are you alright? Sir, you aren’t dead, are you? Please don’t be dead, sir, I don’t have the right constitution to see no dead people!”

“Mph..”

“Oh, thank heavens, you  _ aren’t _ dead. You just… well, pardon me, sir, but you  _ look _ awful dead to me.” You touched his shoulder and realized exactly what his problem was. He was lying prone, not because he’d collapsed from the heat or thirst, but merely due to the fact that he was very securely caught up in the thorns of your delicious prickly pear patch. “Here, you hold still. I’ve got a pair of gardening shears that’ll do the trick, yessir!” You knelt down. The shears snipped, clipped, and chopped through what felt like nearly a hundred pads before he was freed.

“Okay now, you should be fine. You  _ are _ fine, aren’t ya, mister?”

He struggled to push himself to his feet. “Yeah, yeah, ‘m fuckin’ fine…” He coughed hard and spat in the dirt. “Got any water, ma’am? I feel like I could drink a lake dry.” He turned to face you for the first time after getting to his feet and both of you seemed to need a moment for the sheer surprise to evaporate.

“ _Whoa_ _Nellie_ … heh, how _you_ doin’, li’l lady? ‘Cuz _you_ look fine t’ _me_.”

“Oh… wow...um… I’ve never met a monster before… hello, mister.” You frowned. “I am most definitely fine. You’re the one still covered in prickly pear thorns!”

“Oh, you _are_ most definitely fine as dandelion wine, sugarfoot.” He shot you a serrated smile as his eye lights passed over you from head to toe. “Tell me somethin’... since when did the big guy in the sky let his angels wander ‘round all over the damn place?”

“Sir, are you sure you aren’t delirious?” You reached for the small leather bota at your side to give him a drink. “Here, have some water.”

He gulped down nearly half of it before capping it and handing it back. He rolled his heavy shoulders under his denim jacket, scowled at the bits of prickly pear pads that still clung to it, and ripped them off with his bare hands… which he could apparently do because the spines didn’t dig into his hard bones the way they did to flesh, fur, or clothing. “Ah hell, I been face-down in that damn patch o’ devil’s pubes for  _ hours _ . Thank ya, sugarfoot. I owe ya.”

“How did you get like that anyway?” You chose to politely ignore all of the blatant, irreverent cursing. You were raised not to point out other people’s flaws, after all, and the monster  _ had _ been saved from a night spent caught amongst the cacti.

“Horse threw me. Can’t blame ‘er though. Poor Sterling hates rattlers… an’ for good reason.” He turned around, walking through the patch and narrowing his sockets as he searched the ground. “Ey, ya didn’t happen t’ see a hat ‘round ‘ere, did ya?”

“Um… is that it up there?” You pointed to a nice, extremely expensive-looking rabbit fur felt hat with a red band that had comically landed a ringer atop the tip of a nearby saguaro.

“That’s the ticket! Fuck, now I gotta… ah, hell, I’ma just do it this way.” He raised a hand, and suddenly a massive skull manifested behind him with an odd, lightning-like buzz. The horns on it curved out into tips like a bull, and it could’ve been a long-horn steer skull, if it weren’t for the fact that it was chock-full of razor-sharp teeth. As you looked on in abject surprise, that terrifying mouth opened wide and let out a blast of fiery magic that singed that sad saguaro into two halves.

You yelped and leaped back, which got his attention. He dusted off his hat, plopped it back on his skull, and stuck his thumbs in the pockets of his blue jeans. “Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean t’ scare ya. An’ mah name ain’t ‘mister’. I ain’t no ‘sir’ neither. You, sugarfoot, can call me Re-...” He paused, and then his face seemed to twist into something terribly angry for half a second before morphing back to an easy, sleazy grin. “Call me Silver. Silver’s the name, bounty huntin’ is the game.”

“Bounty hunter?” A bounty hunter hadn’t passed this close to your town in several months.

“Yeah, well… it’s the game most o’ the time. Right now, I’m kinda hard up for work. Guess all that bible thumpin’ goin’ on out here is finally beatin’ the devil outta people, amiright?” He chuckled at his joke. “But I’m willin’ t’ do whatever keeps me from goin’ hungry, so if ya know any place that might need a good cowhand, I’d owe ya triple-fold.”

You sounded like a parrot, repeating words stupidly back from the shoulder of some disease-ridden pirate. “Triple-fold, I don’t-”

“One for gettin’ me outta that damn patch o’ prickles, one for the water, an’ one for the job.” He grinned lasciviously at you. “Hell, I’ll add a fourth debt on jus’ for bein’ so damn beautiful.”

You felt your entire face go up in flames. “That’s… really… thank you, but there’s no need. As for the job… my employer over at the Not Okay Corral has been looking for a few ranch hands since his last two moved farther west. I’m just the housekeeper and I look after his children sometimes, but he might consider taking you on if you give me some time to talk with him.”

You glanced up at the sky. “Actually, it might be rather late to try to speak with him today. It’s about a two hour walk back to town, and he’ll probably be sitting down to dinner by then.” You motioned for Silver to follow you. “I could still put you up in the barn for the night. We do have an inn, but I wouldn’t recommend it.” Last you heard, it had been packed with bedbugs and roaches.

“Long as I’m fed an’ warm, I don’t give a shit.” Silver shrugged as he fell into stride beside you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you studied him. He was massive; he easily must have exceeded the six foot mark, and, from the way he held himself, he was likely tipping the scales at two hundred and eighty or more pounds. Over his bulky frame, he wore denim jeans and a pair of chaps that were oddly spiked down the sides. Right above the ridges where his boots ended, the chaps were embroidered in silvery thread with grinning skulls. His jeans were cinched by a thick leather belt, the buckle of it being silver and cow bone with that same, strange skull motif.

“See somethin’ ya like, sugarfoot?” He purred.

You flinched and froze, having been caught looking. “S-sorry… just… like I said Mister...uh… Silver, I’ve never met a monster before. Do they all look like you?” Heaven help you if they did because  _ gods  _ this one made your heart flutter in a dangerously sinful way.

He smirked. “Nah, my kind ain’t common. Pretty sure me an’ mah bro Hoss’re the only ones o’ our particular type left. But hey, what’s not t’ love ‘bout bein’ unique? Makes me a li’l more memorable, don’tchya think?” He winked at you. “An’ I’d  _ hate _ for a pretty girl like you t’ forget mah face.”

You picked up the pace, and turned your head to the side to hide a blush. “I suppose.”

“Y’know, you ain’t much of a talker, sugarfoot. I don’t mind the quiet type, but why don’tchya humor a lonely cowboy an’ tell me a li’l bit ‘bout yerself, eh?” He easily kept up with you, and you got the feeling that, despite his size, he could’ve ran circles around you. It wasn’t the most comforting thought, especially with him being a stranger and you being so far from home or help.

“Sorry, I’m… I was… I get caught up in my thoughts a lot more than I should.” You smiled at him, told him your name, and a little bit about your tiny, two-bit town. “Ebotton isn’t really much. I don’t think we’re on any maps yet, even though the train passes by fairly often. Mostly we’re a mining and ranching town. Everyone who doesn’t work in one of the shops toils away in the silver mine or one of the three big cattle ranches here. Those would be the Not Okay Corral, Emerald Isle Ranch, and Bullseye Ranch.”

“Sounds quiet.” He smirked. “You ever think ‘bout maybe skippin’ town? There’s a lotta adventure t’ be had out there in the great, wide somewhere.”

“Did  _ you _ ever think of settling down in a quiet, out-of-the-way town in the middle of nowhere?”

“Heh, fair ‘nuff. So, yer itchin’ for a li’l bit o’ somethin’ new, then.” His smirk curled mischievously like the ringlets of a judge’s powdered wig. “ _ I’m _ new. Bright an’ shiny like a fresh mint.” A flash of gold glinted in his mouth as his grin grew wider. “Speakin’ o’ mints… ya like peppermint?” He dug in his pocket to pull out a paper-wrapped sweet and handed it to you before taking one out for himself. “Buddy o’ mine can’t get ‘nuff o’ this shit. It’s okay, but it’s got nuthin’ on  _ chicle _ .”

You took the candy with a grateful smile. “You’re a gum kinda guy, I take it.”

“Let’s just say I’ve spent a helluva lotta G’s on it an’ leave it at that, shall we, darlin’?”


	2. Blue Shadows

As you’d predicted, the sun was on its way to bed by the time you’d led Silver to your little slice of the world. The owner of Not Okay Corral was a widower with two young sons he doted on, but with whom he couldn’t manage to spend as much time as he wished -which was where  _ your _ duties came in. The property was also fairly modest, and so he didn’t have many servants aside from you, the elderly cook, and a handful of ranch hands. With such a small staff, he had an equally tiny set of wings set aside for the help; the west wing was for men and the east for the women. 

You didn’t figure it was a good idea to invite Mister Silver into the house in any way without your employer’s permission. There was plenty of room, certainly, but doing such a thing would be presumptuous and rude. As you’d mentioned to him earlier, you led him straight to the barn. This particular barn was one of two on the property, as each had a dedicated purpose. You shuffled from foot to foot, occasionally glancing over your shoulder at the open door. “We keep all of our horses in this one, and it was very recently built, so you shouldn’t have any problems with leaks or whatnot.”

He shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t care as long as I’m warm an’ dry.”

You nodded. “Hold on, I’m gonna go get you a couple of quilts, a pillow, and some supper. I promise you won’t be cold tonight, Mister Silver.”

You tried to move by him, but he snagged you by the arm. “How many times I gotta tell ya t’ stop callin’ me ‘Mister’?” His eye lights flickered softly in the deepening evening shadows. “Jus’ plain Silver’ll do.” He smirked as his grip slid down your arm to your wrist, then finally to your hand. “An’ there ain’t no need t’ go all out like that for me, sweetheart. If ya wanna make sure I stay warm tonight, all you gotta do is say yes t’ slidin’ into the hay right alongside me.”

Your jaw dropped open, and your hand came up before any self-preserving thought passed through your mind. The slap made your palm sting, but it seemed to do nothing more than surprise him. You tried to yank your other hand out of his, but his grip immediately tightened as he pulled you tight against his chest. “Let… me… go!”

He let out a black-hearted chuckle, and those scarlet lanterns deep in his sockets began to smoke. “I wasn’t hard before-” He leaned in until his mouth was level with your ear. “ _ -but I sure as hell am now. _ ”

He released you with a flourish, stepping back with a massive, cheeky grin. “Mah ‘pologies for bein’ an asshole, ma’am… it’s just how this cowpoke rolls. Don’t mean nuthin’ by it. An’ I’m sorry iffin’ I scared ya, too.  A man don’t see many women on the trail… least none like  _ you _ , anyway.” He touched his cheekbone where your hand had connected and his eyes flashed like ball lightning for half a moment. “Go on, now…  _ skedaddle _ . I’ll be here waitin’ for ya, no worries.”

You didn’t dare to turn your back on him, instead you backed up slowly toward the house with both eyes pinned on him as he leaned against the barn to roll up a cigarette. Only when he bent over to hold a match to the end of his smoke did you dare to turn tail and book it back to the servants’ quarters.

As fast as you could, you snatched everything up, rolled it all into a bundle inside of the bigger quilt, and then cut out a thick slice of meat pie from the pan still sitting on the Strewart cook stove. For good measure, you took a couple of biscuits for him as well and tied it all in a cloth napkin. With the bedding bundle on your back, and your hands full of his dinner, you decided to take your time with the return trip.

It wasn’t a good idea, you knew, to extend further courtesy to someone who’d spoken to you as if you were some random abandon, rather than a person who’d saved his life. It offended your good senses, but your father raised his daughter to turn her other cheek. Silver had apologized for his misstep, and if he tried something like it again, you’d avoid him until he went on his way. Once he found a bounty, you’d probably never have to deal with him again.

He was, true to his word, standing in precisely the same spot as before. He was all but invisible in the dark except for two pinpricks of light in his sockets and the devilish cast from his dying cigarette. The ember was tossed into the dirt, and then scuffed out with a grind from his bootheel.

“Didn’t think ya’d be comin’ back.”

Was that… genuine regret in his voice? “What would I have done?” You scoffed. “Sic’d the dogs on you? The only dog we have is an old coonhound, and he ain’t good for much other than cleaning up meat scraps these days, poor guy.” You pushed the bundle of bedding into his hands a little more forcefully than was necessary.

He frowned, but made no comment as he tucked it under his arm before stepping inside the barn. He was all the way to the ladder leading up to the loft before he realized you hadn’t moved an inch past the door. “‘Ey, sugarfoot, you ain’t gotta be afeared o’ me. I ain’t gonna pull nuthin’... like I said, I’m just a fuckin’ asshole what don’t know how t’ keep his big trap shut.”

“I… I’m good out here. You can come get your food from me after you’ve fixed your bed.” You called out, and then took another step back from the door for good measure. He didn’t have to know it wasn’t him you were afraid of.

He paused, appeared to fight with himself for a moment before muttering a curse under his breath and tossing the bundle up to the loft ahead of him. Silver then turned on his heel and came stalking toward you with a deep frown lining his boney features. “Listen here, li’l lady, I-” He cocked his head to the side incredulously. “Damn it, yer shakin’. Ah, ma’am, I… fuck... “ He dragged his claws under his hat. “I wasn’t tryin’ t’...  _ y’know _ … hurtchya or nuthin’... I was… shit, I’m sorry, awright? Wasn’t tryna spook-... “ He cut himself off then as he slowly realized you weren’t looking at him. He followed your stare until his eyes landed on the Appaloosa munching away at her feed within her stall.

“Hold on a goddamn second…” He took a moment to process, glancing from you to the horse, and then back to you again before he fully made the connection. “Yer ‘fraid o’  _ horses _ ? Woman, you had me thinkin’... shit, nevermind ‘bout that… anyway, what the fuck is so bad ‘bout horses that you won’t even come up t’ have a chat with me?”

“We can talk out here.” You didn’t care if your tone sounded defensive. There was no way in heck you were stepping foot inside that godsforsaken barn.

Silver was completely gobsmacked, utterly and entirely bamboozled, and fully bowled over by your reply. “Sugar, they’re just horses. The worst they gonna do is nip yer hair or fingers iffin’ yer teasin’ ‘em… well, I guess they could step on yer li’l fuckin’ fairy feet, but they can’t ‘xactly do that when they’re locked in their stalls.”

You could tell he wasn’t going to relent. “A horse killed my pa.” As you predicted, that made his jaw snap shut. “Kicked him in the head while he was trying to change the shoes.” You tore your eyes from the Appaloosa to find that Silver studying you intently. “Mr. Valencia coulda put me on the orphan train ten years ago, but he kept me here to look after his boys and keep up with the tidying.”

“Ain’t no reason t’ hate an animal. Animals ain’t like people, y’know, they don’t kill ‘cuz they  _ enjoy _ it.” He growled back.

“I don’t hate them.” You told him in a numb, distanced tone of voice. “I deeply distrust them.”

“Well, do ya trust me?” He crossed his arms with a scowl.

“Not really.”

He scratched his cervical vertebrae, then let out a soft sigh. “Guess I deserve that. What if I said I’d make sure none o’ them horses is gonna cause you any trouble? Would ya consider comin’ up for a bit?”

“Why do you keep acting like you care what I have to say?” It wasn’t snappish or harsh; it was a genuine question. No one had been this determined to talk to you before with perhaps the notable exception of Mr. Valencia, although he was always so busy he barely had time for his  _ own _ family, let alone you.

He reached through the bars of the Appaloosa’s stall, his expression entirely blank until the horse pricked its ears forward and nickered softly at him in a bid for attention. For a single heartbeat, he was smiling. It wasn’t a smirk. It wasn’t a cocky, smartass grin. It was a fond, heartfelt smile that changed and rounded out his entire face. He dug into his pocket, coming up with a sugar cube in his palm, and it was eaten right out of his hand. “Spent a long time on mah own.” He said after pulling his hand back through the bars. “Months alone… better part of a year. It gets to ya after a while. Hadn’t seen another person in over two weeks -hadn’t  _ talked _ to someone in more ‘n six -‘fore today. It’s… uh… real nice t’ finally have an actual conversation.”

That revelation definitely made you feel like absolute scum of the earth. “Okay.” His attention snapped back to you. “I’ll go up with you, but only for a little while.” You sighed in defeat.

He broke out in a sly grin, and stepped up to throw an arm around your waist. It made you freeze up for a second, although he didn’t do anything untoward. Silver urged you past the horse stalls, thankfully not commenting further on it. He climbed the ladder first, waited at the top until you were nearly up as well to take your hand and pluck you right off it. With a firm grip under both your arms, he was easily able to swing you into place beside him in the loft.   
  
You glanced down at his hands, somewhat amazed at how little effort he’d expended in hauling you around. His proud smirk immediately snapped you out of that, however, and you peeled his hands off your person with a frown. “So, what did yer pa do ‘round here back in the day?”

“He did whatever needed to be done, but was mainly a blacksmith and farrier.”

“And yer ma? Guessin’ she’s passed as well, right?”   
  
You dug your hands into the bunched cotton of your simple, blue dress. “She’s dead to me, one could say.”

Here, he took interest. “Ya can’t go sayin’ somethin’ like that an’ not ‘xpect a man t’ not ask.” He prompted you. He unfolded the checkered cloth napkin you’d wrapped around the hearty slice of meat pie and sourdough biscuits to eat while you elaborated on your comment.

“My ma and pa met on her father’s plantation. To make things simple, they were about as star-crossed as could be. Eventually, I happened, and her daddy just about killed mine, but settled on paying him to leave with me and never come back or try to claim an inheritance. It was difficult for him, but he chose to take the money and leave, although he did tell me once he came out west in hopes of finding enough gold to try to be able to offer to marry my ma. She probably wouldn’t have been able to marry anyone else anyhow, seeing as she’d allowed herself to be ruined.”

Silver’s sockets narrowed, and he gave a derisive snort. “I ain’t gonna never un’erstan’ human shit. Ain’t no such thing as ‘ruining’ or ‘bastards’ for monsters. Ya love who ya love an’ fuck who ya wanna fuck long as they’re willin’ an’ met their majority; it’s that simple.”

“It’s not simple!” Your nails bit into the flesh of your palms through the dress material.

“Why ain’t it?”

“Because… because it isn’t, alright? There’s a system-”

“An’ yer daddy got jipped ‘cuz he was on the bottom o’ that system. Don’t that make ya pissed?  _ I’d _ be pissed if all that stood ‘tween me an’ a good life wi’ money an’ love was a fuckin’  _ class system _ .”

“It’s about godliness, too.” You mumbled, although that part you weren’t so sure of. You hadn’t entirely lost faith, but it was a struggle to believe these days.

“ _ Godliness _ ? Hey, I ain’t gonna shit-talk anyone’s beliefs, but personally, fuck if I believe in that stuff. It’s a nice story, sugarfoot, but that’s all it is t’ me -a story. How ‘bout people thinkin’ for themselves, huh? Ain’t free will a big thing in the good book?” He poked himself in the chest with his thumb. “Anyway, I’ve read it, an’ a funny thing I notice is people love t’ pick an’ choose as society moves on, an’ soon ‘nuff those ‘rules’ in that there book start lookin’ mighty bendable.”

“That’s… that’s not-”

“Am I offendin’ yer sensibilities with mah blasphemy? Mah ‘pologies.” He didn’t look sorry at all. “I’m jus’ sayin’ you sound so damn sorry fer bein’ a ‘bastard’ when all it seems t’ me that ya done was be born. Love and sex an’ lovin’ sex ain’t evil where I’m from. ‘Sides, evil in mah experience is ‘bout 80% circumstance, 10% misunderstandin’, an’ then all the rest is what really deserves some ever-lastin’ fire. On the opposite end o’ things, sometimes what’s law an’ ‘godly’ ain’t what’s right. Can’t no one in the world put down a set o’ rules an’ say they oughta apply t’ everyone.”

His argument made too much sense. “It isn’t as if there’s anything I could do about it. My own grandfather would probably have me locked up for hysteria if I dared to try to go back to see my mother. She… I don’t think she knows my pa is dead or not. I wish I could tell her, she’d deserve that much, at the very least.”

“Sounds like a real  _ shit _ -uation.” He remarked as he spread a smattering of butter on his biscuit. “Like I said,  _ I’d _ be fuckin’ airin’ mah lungs at the world if I were in yer shoes, but you don’t seem like the type. Yer one o’ them goody-goody, daisy-eyed girls, I betchya ‘know yer place’, too.”

“I’m not a goody-goody!” You glared at him. “You insult me, then apologize, I forgive you, and then you go on and keep doing it! What in tarnation is wrong with you, mister?” You got up with the intent to march out of the barn.

“I warned ya, li’l lady.” He took a gulp from your bota again to wash down the rest of his biscuit. “Don’t take anythin’ I say t’ heart. ‘S jus’ mah way. I’m a right jackass through an’ through. I’m real sorry, jus’ don’t go leavin’ me up here by mah lonesome.” He took your hands, suddenly repentant, and pulled you back down to sit beside him.

You took a deep breath, called on every reserve of patience you had, and decided to give in one more time. There was a bone-deep sadness buffering his razor-edged words that made an appeal to your better nature for sympathy. “I forgive you - _ again _ .” You spat a little fire his way, which made him smirk. “But you gotta tell me something about you to make up for it.”

“Somethin’ ‘bout me...huh…  _ somethin’ ‘bout me _ …” He mulled that over for several moments. “Uh… gimme a sec… welp, I been known t’ jump in at a rodeo once in a while fer the  _ kicks _ .” He snickered over the pun for a second, then collected himself. “An’ I like a good show at the theatre once in a while. Runnin’ bison through a jump is pretty fuckin’ fun, too. That good ‘nuff for ya?”

“Your name.” You recalled that out-of-the-blue demonic grimace he’d pulled earlier in the day upon giving it to you. “How’d you get it?”

His eye lights briefly flashed, but he continued on seemingly otherwise unaffected by the question. “I always been  _ real  _ popular with the ladies, sugarfoot.” He purred. “Why, I had women from Texas t’ California swoonin’ all over themselves. Some o’ mah buddies took t’ callin’ me Silver-tongue Sans, an’ I ‘ventually ran wi’ it, but tha’s a mouthful an’ no mistake. Shortened it up t’ Silver t’ make it sweet. Rolls off the tongue real nice now, don’t it?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “ _ Uh-huh _ .” You could smell that whopper from a mile away. “They should’ve called you Bullshit instead, ‘cause you’re full of it.”

There it was again; that white-hot crackle of interest that had first sparked at a slap in the face. He nearly bowled himself over howling like a wolf, and once he’d collected himself, the grin he shot you was savage. “You got a tongue hot as a mouthful o’ Cayenne pepper, sugarfoot.”

“S-sorry.” Your mouth clamped shut immediately, and you blushed hard. “I shouldn’t say stuff like that.” Your daddy would’ve tanned your hide, and then gave your mouth a thorough wash with a whole bar of soap for it. “It isn’t lady-like.”

“Not-...!” He flustered and spluttered crumbs from his bite of meat pie all over the hay beside him. “T’ hell with that shit. Don’t fuckin’ hold back on mah account, sweetheart. Ain’t no one here ya gotta fuckin’ impress. You got somethin’ t’ say?  _ I wanna hear it _ , an’ even better if it’s gonna burn a few hairs off mah head,  _ comprende _ ?”

No one had previously given you that particular freedom. It was forever frowned upon for women of your standing, or women in general, to be going around like you’d done. It couldn’t keep you from thinking that way, but if you didn’t wish to be socially shunned you’d needed to abide those unspoken rules. This monster, though, obviously possessed little love for social graces. “Alright, I think… okay, I can do that.”

“Hmph.” He rubbed at his jaw. “Good.”

You pointed to the empty napkin. “Finished? I can go grab more if you want.”

His tongue flicked across the points of his teeth as he eyed you. “Yeah, I could do with a li’l more.” You reached for the napkin, shook it out, and meant to leave, but he grabbed your wrist. “‘Ey! Don’t go, what’d I fuckin’ say this time?!”

“You… uh… y-you said you wanted more food?” You dangled the napkin in front of his face.

“What?” He demanded sharply, then blinked and chuckled. “Oh yeah, guess I did. How ‘bout we grab it my way? In an’ out quick as a wit. Don’t like the idea o’ you runnin’ ‘round at this time o’ night anyways -there’s coyotes out there.”

“Coyotes?” You snorted. “Between here and the house? You sure are a strange one, Silver, but okay. I’m guessin’ this is gonna be some kinda magic trick?” Honestly, you were rather excited to see some magic.”

He spat into his gloves and winked. “You know map coordinates, don’tchya sugarfoot?” You nodded. “Good stuff. Gimme ‘em, we’ll warp t’ house.” You rattled off the latitude and longitude from memory, and he mumbled something that sounded like a maths equation under his  He then made a sharp motion with his hand that, at first, did nothing, but eventually a small dot of scarlet bled through the air of the loft until a hole in reality ripped itself open. Through it, you could clearly see the front door.

Your mouth dropped open as you moved your gaze from him to the buzzing, magical rip. He shrugged nonchalantly, took your arm, and walked you straight through. “Which way t’ the kitchen?” Still stunned, you could only point dumbly in the correct direction.

If there was one most impressive fact about this monster, it was that he could  _ eat. _ In fact, you would’ve said that his sheer ability to consume outweighed his incredibly impressive ‘warping’. He ate through eight biscuits, another slice of the meat pie, two butter and prickly pear jelly sandwiches, a solid chunk of cheese with a third of a loaf of bread, and a sizeable slice of apple pie for dessert in addition to what he’d already eaten out in the barn. You were almost afraid he’d empty the larder before dawn; explaining that to Mr. Valencia and the cook would have been an arduous ordeal to be sure.

The entire time, he insisted that you talk. He would find time for prompts between bites, roughly demanding you to continue on, and didn’t seem to tire of listening. It was an odd thing; men typically preferred women who held their tongues, but he was consistently eager for the smallest thought that drifted through your mind. The isolation of the plains truly must have worn him down.

After he was finally satisfied, he warped back to the barn with you in tow. It was extremely dark by this time, and you were growing tired, but he only appeared to get more animated. While he was terribly gruff, he was also terrifically funny and quick-witted. Whenever he managed to get you laughing, his sockets would light up like struck matches and he’d do his best to stay on a roll. It was extremely difficult to explain to him you’d have to get to bed soon.

“Aw, c’mon, it ain’t that late.”

“It’s nearly ten thirty! I should’ve been in bed half an hour ago.”

“Look, I’ll cut ya a deal.” He pushed himself to his feet, pulled off his heavy work gloves, and grabbed the quilt bundle you’d given him earlier. “Sleep here tonight.” He shook out the quilt over a deep pile of hay. “Promise I won’t get handsie or take liberties or steal the covers.”

“And what exactly would I get in return?” You inquired skeptically.

“A song... -the hell ya laughin’ fer?! I’m damn good!” He scowled heavily over his shoulder as he fluffed the straw pillow and centered it at the top of the little nest he was building.

“Sorry, sorry!” You clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle the giggles. “You didn’t strike me as the singing type, is all.”

“Woman, I am dead fuckin’ serious when I say I’m the best cowboy crooner you ever met… ‘least I better fuckin’ be or I’ll put a bullet hole through the other guy’s tongue.” He did sound scarily sincere in that threat.

“This goes against my better judgement-” You didn’t feel like arguing, and you simply  _ knew _ he would argue if you tried to leave. What harm was there to it, anyhow? You had a tiny knife in a sheath hidden in the dimity pocket of your petticoat, which you could easily palm and hide in your hand during the night. “-but I shall give you the benefit of the doubt.”

He folded back the blanket on the left side for you, while you wiggled out of your dress, stays, and petticoat right down to your drawers, chemise, and stockings. It was fairly embarrassing, despite asking him to turn around while you undressed and slipping under the quilt while he was still facing away. The Bloomer in you, though, was a tiny bit proud. And, as he’d promised, he maintained a respectful six inches of room between the two of you as he slid in. “Any requests?” He asked playfully, tucking his hands behind his head to get comfortable.

You were too pink in the face to respond, and so you shook your head. “Alrighty, welp… let’s see…” He thought for a moment, and then grinned. “ **Arizona moon keep shinin’ from the desert sky above. Y’know pretty soon that big yella moon will light the way back t’ the one you love. Blue shadows on the trail~...** ” He turned his head toward you, his grin softening to more of a sleepy smile. “ **Li’l cowboy, close yer eyes an’ dream. All o’ the doggies are in the corral, all o’ yer work is done. Jus’ close yer eyes an’ dream, li’l pal. Dream of someone...** ” He chuckled, and then reached over to pull an errant piece of hay out of your hair. Turning back, he kept up a low, baritone hum.

“ **Blue shadows on the trail…** ” You sang softly back, earning yourself a surprised glance from him. “ **Soft wind blowin’ through the trees above. All the other little cowboys back in the bunkhouse now. So, close your eyes and dream~...** ”

“Kinda surprised ya know that one.” He propped his head up on his fist. “‘S an’ ol’ trail song.”

“Pa used to sing it sometimes.” You turned around to face him, only to find he’d closed half the distance he’d originally given you. It was alarming, yes, but it didn’t feel wrong. “You really are a mighty fine croonin’ cowboy, mister.” You teased.

“Told ya.” He booped your nose. “An’ fuckin’  _ stop _ with the ‘mister’ shit. It’s Silver, sweetheart; yer in mah bed, the least favor you could do for a man is call ‘im by his proper name.”

You felt the peppery itch to talk back flow up your throat. “Oh, and what would be the greatest favor, then?”

Silver’s scarlet eye lights peered at you through his cracked sockets. “Well, I’m thinkin’ that’d be a kiss, darlin’.” He’d halved the distance yet again, but this time you didn’t blush.

Instead, you giggled, and then turned over. “Keep dreaming, cowboy.”

“Will do, sugarfoot.” He laughed softly before pulling his hat over his sockets, grin still tugging at his mouth. “Will…” He yawned wide enough to crack his jaw. “...fuckin’ do.”


	3. Three Sheets to the Prairie Wind

Confusion hit you the moment you awoke the next morning. At first, you couldn’t understand why your pillow was hard and bumpy, and the world was still blurry with sleep until you managed to blink several times. Then your pillow _moved_ and you gave a little shriek of terror. “Heh, sleep well, sugahfoot?”

Silver’s voice was deeper in the early morning, with all the warmth and huskiness of steaming black coffee. With a start, you realized you’d somehow managed to work your way under his arm to lay on his chest in the middle of the night. Cheeks now flaming, you tried to shuffle awkwardly away, but he had you trapped by the bend of his arm. His hat had migrated up on one side of his skull, so that you could see a single socket lazily taking in your escape attempt. “I know _I_ did.”

“I have chores to do!” You protested as you did your best to try to squirm away.

“Aww...don’tchya wanna sleep in a li’l bit? The chores’ll still be there waitin’, but who knows when I’m gonna be gone, eh?”

“Not soon enough, that’s when.” You grumbled back. The snarky retort earned you an earthy laugh that made your heart do flips, and also your freedom.

“Mmm.” He pouted at you, as much as he could, and then pushed himself out of the quilt and hay nest. “Said ya were gonna take me t’ see the owner today, not do _chores_.”

“The morning chores take precedence.” You replied as you rapidly re-dressed yourself. Thank goodness all your dresses looked similar; no one was likely to notice you’d worn the same one twice in a row. “The sooner I get them done, the sooner I can take you to see Mr. Valencia. If you’d like it all to move along that much faster, then I suggest you make yourself useful by lending a hand.”

He let out a low, cranky growl. “Whatever, let’s get this shit over with.”

“Oh, cheer up.” You smirked at him this time as he straightened his clothes. “We’ll be going into town beforehand to stock up on some things, so I can show you around while we’re there.”

Over the course of the next three hours, he helped you milk the cows, collect the eggs, gather the meat scraps to give to Charley the coonhound, empty the buckets of vegetable and fruit peelings into the compost heap, crush the empty egg shells left out by the cook and mix them with hens’ morning seed, clean their roosts, and a few other more homey chores that weren’t handled by Bruce or Roland. Typically, there wasn’t this much for you to do, but the lack of help had put a strain on things. With Silver there, however, things went much more smoothly.

The seed bucket, which you’d always struggled with, he lifted and slung around as if it weighed nothing. Mostly, he took care of all of the bits that moved quickly if one had possessed a bit of muscle, while you handled the rest. Between the two of you, everything managed to get done more than an hour earlier than you were used to, which left plenty of extra time for that run into town.

The ranch was within sight of the main body of Ebotton, although there was plenty of leeway for a leisurely pace. There was a bit of a skip to your step today. You hadn’t enjoyed any free time since Leeroy and Jenkins left so abruptly with barely more than a hoot, hollar, and a war cry. There was more than enough time to pluck a few daisies to thread into your hair… enough time to take in the wave of the prairie grass in the wind… enough time to look over and see Silver staring at you until you became self-conscious of your girlish flouncing. “Why’d ya stop?”

“Almost forgot you were there… sorry, that was childish.” You untangled the daisy’s stem from its place in your untamable, curly hair.  

He frowned hard, and then sliced through the tough stem of a nearby flower to replace the one you’d taken out. He tucked it behind your ear. “Y’know what’s childish? Tryna be somethin’ yer not.” Aside from that rebuke, he stayed quiet the rest of the walk. Half his attention seemed to be on you, while the other absorbed the unfamiliar surroundings.

The dirt of the streets was rutted and pockmarked, and these divots collected rainwater, debris, and dung like a gutter collects leaves. The buildings loomed tall and cast fiercely dark shadows in the harsh, angled light of the mid-morning sun. People’s heads were turned as you two passed by, and the more bold whispered behind their hands. It was no wonder, either, considering that the only other monster in town was the barkeep of the local saloon. The locals trusted him well enough; he’d been there since Ebotton first sprang up around the rail.

“Coming into town this way, you’ve got the church-” You pointed to the white-painted building upon a low hill marking this southern entrance to Ebotton. “-and from there left to right, are the jail, Hound Dog Hotel-”

“‘Ey there, boo’ful… ‘s bin a longk time sinsh you came intah town.” Someone came stumbling from the saloon up ahead. A mane of tangled, gingery curls brushed his shoulders, and he wore ragged blue jeans with a tattered blue button up. He teeter-tottered down the road in your direction.

“Silas, I’ve told you. I’ll not speak a word to you until you give up the bottle. It’s a nasty, unbecomin’ habit.” You wrinkled your nose at him. The rank odor of days-old beer wafted under your nose, though he was nearly five yards away.

“C’mon, shwee’heart, don’ be likge that.” He raised the bottle in his hand, scowling from beneath the brim of his half-destroyed ten-gallon hat. “Haf a drink wi’ me, ya might likge et!” He tried to knock back another swig from the bottle, paused and upended it with a sigh as he realized it was empty.

He hadn’t always been a dirty, low-down drunk; he used to be a good man before the devil in the whiskey perverted his nature. After his grandaddy died and his ma worked herself into an early grave trying to keep Bullseye Ranch afloat, he took to the bottle. Somehow, his farm hadn’t quite gone under yet, although you’d heard rumors it was close.

“The lady _said_ she don’t wanna talk wi’ the likes o’ you.” Silver took a wide stance in front of you, his hands on his hips and his left one, in particular, hovering dangerously close to his holster.

Silas bared his teeth in a mocking sneer. “An’ who the fuck’re you t’ step ‘tween us. Tha’s my fiancée, ya piece o’ fice shit.”

“ _Ex_ -fiancée.” You corrected sharply. “It’s been two years.” There was a pleading note in your voice you hoped he could hear. It was time for him to move on. You still cared for him, and it hurt to see him like this. He’d been so proud once upon a time.

Silver gave you an incredulous look. “ _This guy?_ Mah li’l Cayenne pepper almost got hitched t’ _this_ asshole?”

“ _Hish_ Pepper?!” Silas gaped at Silver, and then glared at you. “What’sh he got that I ain’t?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, but I don’t belong to no one.” You snapped back at Silas, your patience gone with the wind. People were beginning to gather around or peek out of doors to take a gander at the commotion, which you didn’t much appreciate. “And if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to finish showing the town to Mister Silver here.”

“Nuh-uh.” He was positively fuming. His face was perfectly cherry-red from the tips of his ears to his collar. “You an’ I’re gonna fuckin’ talgk. You ain’t given me no chance t’ talk shince ya threw me the mitten.”

He lurched forward, his unfocused eyes narrowing as Silver nearly clotheslined him with one outstretched arm. “Git outta mah way, puck.” He brandished the liquor bottle in your direction. “‘M jus’ talkin’ to ‘er. Ain’t no crime t’ fuckin’ talk t’ someone-” He raised his voice as the commotion he was making began to draw some amount of attention. “-less’en there’s a damn _law_ ‘bout a man speakin’ t’ a lady ‘round ‘ere!”

“If there ain’t one, there oughta be one special-made in yer honor.” Silver bared his teeth in a snarl that would’ve cowed a rabid wolf. “Move along, pardner, ‘fore I hafta make ya.” Each time Silas attempted to shoulder past him, Silver would move to that side and block his path. Finally, Silas let out a drunken string of slurred curses before pitching the bottle to the ground in a fit of frustration.

Now, you weren’t entirely certain if he’d aimed it at you or not, but you were whom it hit. The heavy glass got you hard square in the shin. Stars of pain burst behind your eyes as you immediately crumpled into the muck. You ground your teeth together to keep from crying out or embarrassing yourself further, but tears now burned behind your eyelids. Too focused on the explosion of agony in your leg, you missed most of what happened next.

You registered a great deal of roared curses, the sound of shattering glass, and a few people screaming. A nearby saloon dancer on her smoke break held out a hand to help you back to your feet, although you ended up leaning more on her than walking on your own. Pain still stabbed through your lower leg like a filleting knife was being scraped up and down the bone itself, but you blinked and were able to clear your head enough to finally see the end result of Silas’ liquor-fueled stupidity.

Ebotton’s sheriff, an older gentleman who went by the name of Day, had been called upon by someone to attend to the scene. As witnesses gathered in the streets to accost his deputy with accounts of what had happened, Day himself was the one who stepped between Silver and Silas. Silas was lying halfway through the now busted-out right window of Grillby’s Saloon. “Awright, that’s enough!” The sheriff barked loudly. “Somebody get Doc Valentine or this boy’s gonna bleed out, an’ I don’t wanna hafta deal wit’ a corpse ‘fore my mornin’ cuppa coffee.”

He then turned on Silver, frowning so severely as to cause crepey wrinkles to form along his brow. “As fer you… anybody care t’ tell me the hell happened here?”

His deputy Knotts had just gotten through speaking with each witness, and hurriedly tapped his superior on the shoulder. “It appears the young man charged at this feller full-tilt, tripped over air, an’ ended up puttin’ himself through that there window. Ain’t no matter o’ assault… ‘cept maybe on behalf o’ the lady. Looks like she might be needin’ a look-see at that leg, considerin’ Silas threw a bourbon bottle at ‘er.”

“Izzat true, ma’am?” Sheriff Day inquired of you.

“Well, I can’t rightly say if he _meant_ to hit me with it. I’m fairly certain he just threw it in a random direction.” You allowed the saloon dancer to lead you to the wall nearest to Silver and the sheriff before she went on her way.

“Does it fuckin’ matter?” Silver snarled loudly. “Yer hurt ‘cuz o’ him.”

“I’m alright, there’s no need for anyone to make a fuss. There’s not much to be done about a bruise, and he was drunk. If he could get off the liquor, he’d have never done it in the first place.”

Silver grabbed you. “Don’t care. Fuck ‘im.” He looped your arm around his shoulders, and then seemed to decide that was too much of a hassle, thus ended up swinging you into a bridal carry. “It ain’t yer problem now.”

Sheriff day pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ya know what? I’ve ‘bout had ‘nuff o’ Silas an’ his brawlin’ bullshit. You two get along back the way ya came.” He looked at you pointedly. “Harold is certainly gonna be worried over you, ma’am. Might as well ease ‘is mind.” He perked up a bit as Doc Valentine came running from his office with his assistant Hazel in tow. “Looks like this is all un’er control now, too, so don’t you worry yerself over it. I’ll drop by the ranch later on t’ tell ya how it all turned out.”

“Th-thank you, sir.” You stammered, leaning out around Red’s body to get one last glimpse of the scene before he carried you off. “I’m sorry about all the trouble!”

He waved a wrinkled hand at you. “He did it t’ ‘imself, the idjit. Now, go on! Go have a lay-down, an’ maybe chew a li’l cocaine gum fer the pain.”

Silver didn’t seem to want to bother with the whole walk home. As soon as the pair of you were out of sight, he warped out straight to the tiny nest he’d made in the barn loft. “It really isn’t that bad.” You protested.

He didn’t listen, however, and went straight to work on pushing your dress up and your stocking down. The impact had already caused the majority of your lower leg to swell, while the main area of trauma was quite red, although the edges were going purple by now. “It’s okay, honest. No need to fuss!”

“Hush up.” He growled as magic sparked between his phalanges. “Stars be damned… wish I was fuckin’ better at this.” While you watched, magic seeped through your skin and swirled like a pond disturbed by rain. The pain died gradually, and then so did the stiffness accompanying the swelling, until naught was left to show of the injury. You did, however, feel somewhat groggy and loose-limbed. “Gonna feel a li’l sleepy for a bit, but tha’s normal.”

You immediately rolled up your stocking to re-attach to your garter, and fluffed your skirts back into place. “I’m terribly sorry about Silas. I was hoping he’d be too hungover this time of day to make a scene.” He was the reason you didn’t often take the responsibility of going into town. Thankfully, the cook was usually understanding and did the shopping herself.

His sockets, however, continued to smoke irritably. “You didn’t mention no _fiancé._ ” His tone bordered on accusation.

“Because I don’t have one anymore.” You huffed through your nose. “We were engaged for barely six months _two years ago_ , and I only said yes because I couldn’t imagine there’d be a better prospect. He’s got property, y’know.”

“ _I_ could have land.” He growled under his breath. “...jus’ gotta save up a li’l bit.” He pinned you with a sharp stare. “Havin’ land don’t make ‘im special.”

“No, but a respectable woman has to take those things into consideration when marrying. It was a good match, considering I don’t have a dowry and I’m a-”

“Don’tchya fuckin’ dare use that stars-damned word. It’s a load o’ horseshit.” He turned his back on you, and plonked himself down at the edge of the loft to let his legs hang over the side. The taloned tips of his fingers dug deeply into the pinewood. “Oughta go back ‘n throw ‘im a necktie social.” He grumbled to himself.

“If people hear you talking like that, they’ll run you out of town.” You settled beside him. “Sheriff Day ain’t fond of vigilantes -bounty hunters, either, for that matter.”

“The sheriff can take his badge an’ stuff it up his horse’s ass, for all I care.” The thought must’ve amused him, because that familiar, smartass smirk soon replaced his sullen countenance. “You got anythin’ more t’ do today?”

You thought for a moment. “Not until after supper. The boys are with the schoolmarm right now.” On school days, there was a lot less work after the morning chores. The house was spotless as well, you knew this since you’d been the one to make it so yesterday before you’d gone out. “Why?”

“I wanna try t’ find Sterling.” He shrugged. “Better iffin’ I got another set o’ eyes peeled for ‘er. You up for it, darlin’?”

“I… I don’t have to actually… you don’t need me to be the one to catch her, do you?”

“Nah, you jus’ gimme a hollar if ya see ‘er an’ I’ll come runnin’.” He pulled you under his arm with a grin. “Not that she’d letchya touch ‘er even if ya wanted to. She bites e’ryone ‘cept me… jus’ ask Hoss.”

“She bites?!”

“What can I say, darlin’?” His eye lights gleamed with mirth. “I like mah fillies feisty, heh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me all these references I'm making aren't flying everyone's heads. It'll make me feel so, so old. X'D


	4. Save A Horse

Way down yonder, on the trail as it passed your prickly pear haven, is where Silver suggested the two of you start searching first. He was adamant Sterling wouldn’t have gone too far, and would’ve stayed in the area to try to search him out.  _ You _ thought that was giving an alarming amount of credit to a horse, but went along with it nonetheless.

He took point farther down the road, while you hiked up and down the prairie hills in search of a horse that would probably bite your fingers off as soon as look at you. That, coupled with your run-in with Silas, put you in a fairly sour mood which you took out on the burdocks and wild carrots that littered the landscape. They were both good greens, and ripping them out of the ground gave you immense satisfaction.

At one point, you glanced up from the mass of roots you’d been tucking into your satchel, when you spotted something heart-droppingly blue in the distance. “How wonderful.” You glanced over your shoulder, and, to your dismay, you realized that Silver was far out of sight and earshot.

Well, there was one option here and you didn’t like it one bit, but you couldn’t come up with a good enough reason to avoid trying to recapture the darn horse. Horses were valuable animals. A good horse could mean the difference between life or death on the trail, and as much as you disliked them, you realized that Silver was incredibly attached to his horse. Thus, with a heavy-hearted groan, you started in the direction of the blue splotch.

The horse was standing between a narrow gap between two stone plateau amongst a sea of indiangrass and big bluestern that grew as high as your knees. From here, it was easy to see that this simply had to be the one and only Sterling. She was a lithe yet muscled, agile Nokota mare with a windswept mane and tail. The ice-white of her long hair blew majestically in the soft breeze as she shook it out to whip away the biting flies. “Please don’t bite… please don’t bite… please... please…  _ please for the love of all that is holy don’t bite me _ …” You murmured under your breath as you carefully approached.

The horses ears pricked forward, and then laid flat against her head as soon as she spotted you, but bravely did not attempt to bolt. “Hi…” You halted several feet away, shifting from foot to foot. “Nice horsey… good horsey… uh…” You whistled for her, but Sterling merely snorted and lowered her head to go back to grazing. “Oh, that’s real nice. You don’t even see me as a threat, huh? I could’ve been a mountain lion!”

Sterling merely flicked her tail as a particularly fat black fly got too close. “Right, I’m not a mountain lion, but I still could’ve been trying to wrangle you.” This time, the mare raised her head to regard you with an inquisitive stare. “Yeah, I’m still talking to you. Look, come on.” You made a soft  _ schnick schnick _ sound with your lips and teeth as if you were call over a dog. “Silver’s over that way! He said you’re smart, so maybe you can smell him on me? Come on, girl, follow me… at a respectable distance, please.”

The horse snuffled at the air, and then took a few steps forward. “Okay, there you go! Good deadly horse. Nice evil horsey. Follow me, come on! The sooner we get you to Silver, the sooner I don’t have to be around you. I’m sure you hate me, too, so let’s get a move on! Gitty-up!” You waved her along, patting at your thighs the way you knew to do with a reluctant dog, and then froze as the mare suddenly made a lunge at you. “Oh gods! SILVER! I FOUND YOUR DEATH MACHINE NOW COME HELP ME BEFORE I’M CUD!”

You dodged Sterling’s teeth by millimeters. “Why are you biting at me? I didn’t even try to touch you! SILVER, GET YOUR COWBOY CURTIS ASS OVER HERE AND HELP ME OR I’M GONNA-” You cut yourself off with a tiny shriek, nearly tripping over your dress in an attempt to avoid the next snap.

You scrambled through the prairie grass as fast as you could with the horse moseying along at your heels, occasionally yelping as Sterling kept attempting to bite at you. She could’ve easily outran you, but it felt almost as if the mare were taunting you, playing with her prey like a sadistic cat did a songbird. She did, however, end up following you back within yelling distance of Silver, which was the end goal. It didn’t feel much like a victory, though, because by the time he’d heard you screaming and warped back to the starting point, you were being chased in slow circles by a very determined horse.

“Sterling, sweetheart! Daddy missed ya somethin’ awful.” He grabbed her by the reins, but she kept straining her head in your direction. He easily held her back, but the lack of obedience on her part appeared to surprise him. “What’s gotten into ya, girl? Ain’tchya happy t’ see me? Lookie here, stop tryna take a chunk outta mah li’l sugahfoot an’ be a good girl.” She, however, persisted in her pursuit of you, and that eventually led to you taking a pathetic stand behind Silver as he continued to push her back. “The hell, girl? Whatchya got ‘gainst ‘er?”

“I didn’t touch her, I swear! She just attacked!” You had to swing your hip out of the way of incoming teeth once again, and that’s when you noticed something. Sterling was consistently going for your waist and torso area -not your fingers, hands, or other more easily munchable bits. You glanced down, and then it realized what the horse was after. “Fine, here!” You opened up the satchel and dumped the burdock roots on the ground. “Take it, just leave me alone!”

Your offering was happily accepted, much to Silver’s amusement. “Stop it, it’s not funny!” You stomped hard to emphasize your point.

“Yer right,  _ it’s hilarious _ .” He had to lean heard on Sterling for support as he continued to choke with laughter.

Your shoulders drooped, and your cheeks burned as you fought back tears. “N-no, it’s not!” But he didn’t even reply; he was gasping for breath with how hard he was snickering. “Stop it! Silver, it’s not funny! I… you know what? Sure, laugh it up. The devil take you and your crazy horse!”

You took your leave, and you were certain he didn’t notice at all through the mirthful tears streaming down his face. That was well and good, too, as far as you were concerned, because right now you didn’t care to look back and check. You were crying now, too, although for the complete opposite reason. Hot, angry tears flowed over your cheeks and dripped into the dust of the trail. The trail ahead was blurred by the emotional flood. You were so washed away in it, you didn’t hear the heavy  _ clipa-clop _ of hooves riding up from behind.

“Aw, sugarfoot, don’t go cryin’.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. If you were a gentleman, you’d leave me alone.”

“Ain’t that jus’ the problem, then? I ain’t no gentleman.” He chuckled softly under his breath before sighing. “C’mon mah li’l hot pepper, I’m sorry for hurtin’ yer feelin’s.”

“You know I don’t like horses, but then I go out there and I find your darn horse for you and you don’t even thank me for it.” You quickened your pace, but he simply squeezed his heels into Sterling’s sides to keep up. “Then you go laughing because I’m afraid of being bitten by said horse that you  _ told me  _ likes to bite.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. I’m an ass. Thank ya for findin’ ‘er.” He held out his gloved hand for you. “It’ll be a shorter walk if ya take mah hand, sugar.”

“Don’t care.” You turned your shoulder more toward him and hunched over as you continued to sniffle. Being this close to his horse wasn’t helping your nerves, either, and so you moved off to the side. He moved as well, though, and continued to badger you.

“Don’t make me pick ya up by the scruff an’ plop ya behind me.” He sounded playful, but you knew him well enough by now to know he’d do it. “Cuz I will. An’ the less time we spend walkin’ out here, the more time we have fer talkin’.”

“I told you I don’t feel like talking to you!” You whipped around furiously to spear him on the tip of a fierce scowl.

“Stars alive, yer fuckin’  _ beautiful _ when yer angry.” He sighed in awe.

You pointed at him, shaking with barely controlled rage. “You… you…!”

“Me?” He gave you a lazy, dreamy grin. “C’mon, cuss me out. Throw a li’l fire mah way. Get it all out, sugarfoot.” He pointedly wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “Damn, it gettin’ hotter out here? Oh wait, nah… that’s jus’ you.

You let your hand drop, but your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides. You were tempted,  _ sorely tempted _ , to give him a real piece of your mind. Your more genteel nature, however, was winning over. You  _ had to be polite _ . He didn’t know any better, but  _ you _ did. You let out a frustrated huff before turning your back to him once again.

“Guess I shoulda checked the forecast.” He continued on. “Had no idea it’d be hotter than hell with a chance o’  _ gorgeous _ .”

“Tell me-” You hissed back. “-how many times does smoothing over your assholery with jokes and sexual innuendo  _ actually work?” _

He shrugged, grinning. “Eh, it’s usually fifty-fifty, but sixty percent o’ the time, it works  _ every time _ .”

“That doesn’t make sense!” You groaned, but it was useless. He was starting to make you smile. The battle was already lost and you hated it. “Gods, you are impossible.”

“Nah, I’m Silver.” With that, he made good on his threat and nabbed you off the ground. You thrashed helplessly in the air for a second, and then were forced to steady yourself by wrapping both arms around his middle.

“Why do you even have a horse if you can do that warping trick?” You finally asked, your tone still a little huffy.

“I can only warp t’ places I know the coordinates of or that I been to.” He replied. “An’ it’s harder wi’ jus’ the coordinates, so I usually prefer the distance t’ be shorter if I ain’t been there in person. Plus, horses are fuckin’ tops.” He fondly patted Sterling’s neck just under her mane. “If she didn’t have t’ haul mah two hunert an’ twen’y three pound ass ‘round, she’d go a lot faster, too.”

“I thought you were heavier than that…” You mumbled your thoughts aloud.

“You callin’ me fat?” He smirked over his shoulder at you.

Your eyes went wide. “No, no! Sorry, I just… ugh… I’m sorry.”

He chuckled. “I don’t give a fuck, I’m just messin’ witchya. Monsters have thick bones.” He twisted slightly to pull off his gloves to show you what he meant. “Most o’ us have skeletons two or three times as dense as a human’s.” Each of the phalanges on his hands were easily the size of two and a half of your own. “Magic is heavier than ya’d think, too. When I’m walkin’ ‘round without mah ecto summoned, I tip the scale at ‘round 140, but with the ecto...I’m about two twen’y somethin’. Whenever it’s jus’ me an’ Sterling, I dismiss the magic so I don’t wear ‘er out.” He winked at you. “Hard t’ keep mah pants up if I don’t got the ecto, though, so when I’m ‘round other people, I tend t’ keep the ecto on.”

“You make it sound as if it’s hard for you to keep your pants on in general.” You grumbled, and then snapped your mouth shut too late. “That wasn’t polite, sorry.”

But he was snickering again. “Nah, that was a grade-A comeback, sugarfoot. Stop ‘pologizin’, there ain’t hardly nothin’ you can say that’ll piss me off.”

“So… what do you mean by ecto?”

He grinned, flicked his wrist, and magic flowed over his hand. At first, it was smokey and formless, then stuck to itself like a heavy raincloud, before ultimately growing more solid until it was as thick as real flesh. It was strange, as you could still see his bones through the magic. “I can do that with  _ any part o’ mah body _ , sugarfoot.”

That one took you a second, and then you got it. The suggestive brow wiggle when you looked up only served to confirm it. “You’re such a pig.”

“Aw, I ain’t that bad, am I?” He pulled the glove back on. “Better ‘n that Silas fucker,  _ at least _ .”

“Believe it or not,  _ he _ didn’t constantly try to get his metaphorical hands up my dress!”

“Then he obviously didn’t know what he had when he had it, did he?” That shut you up quickly, and he must have sensed he’d touched a real nerve this time. “Look, all I mean is if ya were mine, I wouldn’t have been pussy-footin’ around for a preacher t’ tell me it’s okay t’ fuck the woman I love.”

“There’s nothing wrong with waiting.” You told him stiffly.

“So you were gonna wait ‘til ya gone an’ trapped yerself with an ‘I do’ t’ find out if he knows how t’ use what little he’s got in ‘is pants?” He scoffed. “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard. Yer too smart t’ go buyin’ that snake oil, sugarfoot.”

“There’s more to love than sex, I hope you realize.”

“Sure there is.” He agreed off-handedly. “Butchya already said ya didn’t love ‘im, so all that woulda been left was the sex… an’ the way you talk has me thinkin’ ya don’t know much ‘bout doin’ the do. ‘Cuz that shit...heh, baby, it’s  _ life-changin’ _ if ya do it right.”

You bristled a bit over that. “I’ve read a marriage pamphlet before, I’ll have you know!” The mechanics had been quite straight forward. “Personally, I don’t understand what’s so exciting.”

“You read a fuckin’  _ what _ ?” He brought Sterling to a full stop so he could turn as much as possible in the saddle. “I’ve seen those things. They don’t even cover  _ a third _ of what ya can do. Hell, they skip right over the clit like it don’t even fuckin’ exist!”

“Excuse me, but what is-” You lowered your voice to a whisper, as you had the distinct feeling that the word he’d used was highly improper. “- a ‘clit’?”

“You… you ain’t serious, are ya?” Now he just looked sad, and that was worse than the lecherous smirking and innuendo put together. “You ain’t never… y’know… explored down there a li’l bit?”

“What?! No!” You recoiled back. “Masturbation is incredibly unhealthy!”

“Says who? Who do I need t’ fuckin’ shoot?” He shook his head. “Damn, an’ I thought I heard it all. Lady don’t even know ‘er own parts… by the fuckin’ grace of Polaris, woman, now I’m depressed as shit. I’ma need a drink when we get back.” He summoned up a warp, this one large enough for Sterling to trot right through, and hitched her to the post outside the barn for the time being.

He then grabbed your arm to yoink you inside, and didn’t say a word until you were both back in the safety and relative privacy of the loft. There he proceeded to pull a bottle of quality blue agave tequila from within his coat for a hearty nip before staring at you. Again, he shook his head, then decided to go for another sip of liquor. Afterward, he managed to actually say something. “I think I know how I’m gonna repay that debt t’ ya, sugarfoot.”

“Silver, I’m not a foundling.”

“Never said ya were. Like I said, there’s  _ other _ things t’ do that damn pamphlet didn’t cover. Lots o’ good shit.” He took another drink. “But I ain’t gonna do nuthin’ ya don’t ask for, so it’s up t’ you.”

“It’s… practical. There’s all sorts of diseases… syphilis… and… and brain fevers…”

“ _ Tch _ , monsters don’t get most o’ the human ones an’ I’m clean as a whistle.” You gave him a skeptical look. “‘Ey, I’ve got discernin’ tastes! Think whatchya want, but I don’t go rollin’ around with anyone off the street. I make sure I can afford the dinner, chocolate, an’ condoms ‘fore I even consider it.”

You opened your mouth to ask, but he held up a hand. “I already know the question. It’s a lambskin or rubber cover for a man’s bits. Personally, I prefer the skins… better sensitivity.”

You swallowed hard. On the one hand, you weren’t likely to be married. Your low status, lack of living parents, and plain face had doomed you. Aside from Silas, in whom you were definitely no longer interested, there was no one for you. And you weren’t an utter prude, it was simply hard to work yourself around the idea that the values instilled in you might be… dare you think it… wrong.

On the other hand, you could feel the weight of your parents’ mistakes on your shoulders. The title of ‘bastard’ didn’t sit lightly with you. It would be with great hesitation that you’d risk an act that would pass on that damning inheritance to your own child. “Can we… is it possible for you to… I don’t…” Pregnancy, too, was dangerous in its own right. Was it really worth it to have your life cut short on a birthing bed, when all you would have needed to do to save your life was stay modest?

“Hey, I get it. Yer scared. It’s okay, sugar. There’s a few things I can guarantee you’ll like an’ there won’t be no baby-makin’.” He tucked away the spirits to pull you into his lap. “Lemme try t’ make up fer bein’ an asshole in the best way I know how.”

“Will it hurt?”

He frowned. “Not a bit. Why? They say it’s s’posed t’ hurt in that  _ pamphlet _ ya read?”

“It sounded like it might hurt a lot… at least for me, anyway.” You admitted in a small voice.

“Sweetheart, I promise it won’t.” He purred as he petted your hair back from your face. “An’ I’ll stop whenever ya need me to.”

“I don’t want to use you. It shouldn’t be because you’re trying to pay a debt. That isn’t right.” Your resolve was weakening, and you were torn. “You’re cheapening yourself.”

“Oh, I dunno ‘bout that.” He chuckled near your ear. “I got a lap full o’ sugar… I’m feelin’ pretty damn rich at the moment.” His hands started to wander down from your hips. “An’, iffin’ ya hadn’t noticed, I’ve been  _ tryin’ _ t’ get ya t’ fuck me in some form or fashion since yesterday.”

“We’ve only known each other for two days and you want to…?”

“I  _ know _ . I never waited this damn long before. It’s a goddamn personal record.” He let out a weary sigh. “You play a  _ hard _ game, ya know that? Really makin’ me work for it over here.”

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head. “I can’t justify it. I like you, I do, but  _ two days _ ?! Maybe… could we at least get to know each other a bit better?”

“What, like courtin’? Sure, if that’ll warm ya up t’ the idea.” He thought for a few seconds, smiling deviously. “But you’re gonna be sleepin’ up here wi’ me every night from now on. Deal?”

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like every chapter is now a game of 'spot the pop culture reference'. lol XD


	5. Down, Boy

Once Silver had been officially hired on (it hadn’t taken long as Mr. Valencia took your word as good as gold), life fell into a routine. Every day, you’d get up to take care of your morning chores, finish it all just past noon, and then have a few hours to help him in the afternoon before Roald and Reuel returned for supper. Both boys were quite self-sufficient, and didn’t truly need anyone watching over them, but they had fancied themselves as younger brothers to you over the years, and so hadn’t protested.

In any case, after you’d settled them down, urged them into a bath and then bed, you’d take your own meal with Silver in the barn loft. If anyone noticed how much time you spent with the new cowhand, none of them said a word to your face about it. This was now the second week of such activities without interruption; the only eyebrows raised were at Silver’s preference for sleeping with the horses rather than in the bunkhouse. 

Over time, in spite of occasional annoyance over his behavior, the cowboy had inspired a true fondness within you. He was funny in his own crude, rude, contemptuous way, and could be as charming as a caught fox when he wished. And today, after he’d kept you up for hours recounting raucous tales of his own, his brother’s, and his friends’ adventures, he was showing a much gentler side. 

You chalked it up to the bittersweet glow of nostalgia settling around his shoulders. Nowadays, he only seemed to lose the pondering, far-off gaze whenever he was chewing the fat with you. “I wanna hear more about those two wild friends of yours.”

“Lucky an’ Dusty?” He swallowed down a mouthful of buttered roll. “Heh, those two are the best rodeo clowns North of the Rio Grande, but with Dusty… well, that boy always did fancy himself a lawman first an’ foremost, though I can’t ‘magine why. Suits ‘im well ‘nuff, I s’pose. He’s the serious one; the tall, dark, an’ broodin’ type ya hear women sighin’ over. He was a sheriff back in the day ’fore-” He frowned hard, and then shook his head. “Aw, nevermind. Anyways, ‘fore we parted ways he gave me this t’ remember ‘im by.” He plucked proudly at the upside down silver Sheriff’s star on his chest.

“And Lucky?”

“Best friend in the damn world, if ya can overlook all the stupid scrappin’ he gets ‘imself  _ an’ his friends _ into. We call ‘im Lucky ‘cuz it’s pure fuckin’ luck he ain’t feedin’ the buzzards any given day o’ the week. Boy’s mad at the world, but I reckon when yer daddy ain’t fit t’ lick the mud off a saloon floor an’ yer mama’s done ploughed herself into the ground… well, I can’t say I blame ‘im much.”

You thoughtfully blew off your next forkful of sausage, and chose to ignore the way his eye lights flicked down to your puckered lips. “Their pa’s alive?”

“If ya call bein’ a drunk, yella, bitch’s fart alive, then sure.” He made a face. “Their mama was a Cherokee woman that got ‘erself married off t’ the poorest excuse o’ a mountain man that ever walked the damn earth. Poor lady… never will see what she saw in that asshole.”

“Love makes a person do strange things.” 

He gave a grunt of acknowledgment. “He comes ‘round sometimes; askin’ fer money, food… whiskey. Dusty’s the one what usually runs ‘im off… most o’ the time ‘fore Lucky even gets hold o’ him. They may be twins, but Dusty dunno how t’ live if he ain’t a big brotha t’ jus’ about e’ryone.”

“I’d like to meet them someday.” The tribes typically kept to themselves on their reservations. It was understandable considering that, until monsters came along, they were one of the most hated and feared people in the west. Not that you took kindly to such nonsense; people were people, and the world would be a better place if some weren’t too thick up top to see it. 

“Would ya now?” He balanced his plate back on his lap, grinning up a storm. “You considerin’ takin’ me up on the offer t’ go ridin’ into the sunset? I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind a bit o’ the feminine touch -the girls we got ridin’ with us are some mighty fine lady ropers, but you’re refined cane sugar where they’s stubborn ‘n sticky molasses. Nuthin’ wrong wi’ that, mind, but it’ll be somethin’ new for a change.”

“Mr. Valencia and his wife practically raised me.” You bit your lip indecisively. The nomadic life he’d described -one of living off the land, exploring the wild blue yonder, and rounding up the evils of the world- was appealing. You’d never considered the outrageous idea you’d ever leave Ebotton, but here was your chance. “I… can’t… could you give me some time to decide?”

“Darlin’, we got nuthin’ but time. Lucky’s the best damn tracker I ever met, but it’ll prolly be weeks ‘fore they all meet back up, find Hoss, and then hunt me down.”

“I’m not saying no.” You replied quickly. “Just… I don’t feel like I could give you a proper answer without thinking on it first. There’s Roald and Reuel to think of, and Mr. Valencia is short on help as it is…” This was a fine pickle to be sure. Deep down, you wanted to go. Life in a honky tonk town was the definition of boring, and the memories here weren’t all that good.

“Y’know, we can always come back ‘round sometimes.” He took another honking bite out of his chunk of bread. “Iffin’ ya don’t come wi’ me… I don’t rightly think I could stay away for too long. World’s a dangerous place an’ I don’t like the idea o’ leavin’ ya alone out here.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Yeah, you are.” He gave a quiet scoff. “Know how I know? Yer a cowboy, too, li’l lady, an’ all cowboys are alone on principle… less’en they got someone t’ sing out the lonely, an’ rut out the blues with.”

“A cowboy who can’t ride a horse… I think that’s the funniest joke you’ve ever told me.”

He smirked and bumped you gently with his shoulder. “‘Ey, give it time, sugarfoot. I’ll have ya ridin’ soon ‘nuff… in one sense or another.”

By now, you were mostly numb to his crass ways, but you still wrinkled your nose. “You are awful, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do, love. I’ve warned ya more times ‘n I can count, butchya keep comin’ back fer more.” 

You couldn’t help laughing, and it felt nice. Being with him was easy as breathing, warmer than summer sunshine, and sweeter than honeysuckle plucked straight from the vine. After cleaning up a bit, stacking the plates to the side to take into the house the next day, the both of you settled down between the quilts for the night as had become the nightly habit.

Under the cover, he trailed his fingers up and down your arm. After a few moments of this, he stopped, but then started again. This continued for several minutes until you twisted over to see what was amusing him. He wore one of those slow, sleepy smiles that made your heart play double dutch and your stomach knot up. “W-what’re you doing?”

“ _ Nuthin’~ _ ...” But then he poked you and looked so darn tickled you had to ask again. “It’s yer soul.” He prodded you again with the tip of his phalange, smiling yet wider still. “The pretty li’l thin’ lights up like a cigarette in a coal mine every time I touch ya. It’s the sweetest damn thing I ever saw.”

Self-consciously, you crossed your hands over your chest as if that would help. It obviously wouldn’t if he could see your soul right through your physical body, although it did make you feel a little better. Slow, steady breaths did nothing to ease the pace of your galloping heart, either.

Something half-feral flashed in his sockets as he reached up to touch your cheek. “Wonder what it’d do if I-” He touched his mouth to yours briefly, his gaze entirely focused on you, and then sucked in a sharp, hissing breath. “ _ Goddamn _ , blind a man why dontchya?”

You gripped the edge of the quilt to keep yourself grounded. It wasn’t your first kiss, but it blew all the others out of the water with ease. What was it about him that made your insides feel as if they’d been knotted up into a light-headed, fluttery mess of tangles? “What does it look like?” You’d honestly have said or asked anything to get your mind off the fact that he’d just stolen a kiss…  _ and you’d let him _ .

“Royal purple like an amethyst fresh from the mine.” He stared hard at your chest, a mile-wide grin on his face. “Compassion’s a rare one, but guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Got a good bit o’ loyalty an’ forgiveness in there, too… subtraits ya might say.”

You chewed on the inside of your lip; his intense stare was starting to wear away at you. You wiggled deep underneath the quilt to burrow away from this strange, ethereal monster and your own feelings. Every time you looked him in the eye, your chest felt fuzzy, strange, and stuffed full of cotton batting.

 “Aw, don’t go hidin’, beautiful.” He lifted the edge of the blanket up. To prevent further retreat, he wrapped his arms around you and clutched you firmly to his chest. “Gotchya.” A rumbling hum started deep in his throat. “Mm, ya never lemme cuddle like this b’fore. Stars, yer warm…” He clutched you tighter, all but purring with pleasure. “Soft… an’ betchya taste good as ya look, too.” 

He nuzzled his face against yours, gently at first and then most insistently. “C’mon, sweetheart… gimme a li’l sugah, huh? Don’t make me go beggin’ like a dog.”

“For all the tail you chase, you  _ should _ have been born a dog.” You huffed back.

His eye lights brightened as if a bellows had been taken to fresh coals. “ _ Goddamnit _ , I love it when ya do that.” He growled, and then in half a blink, he had flipped you onto your back. He pinned your shoulders to the soft hay, only to stare at you with the most intense, searching gaze for the span of several heartbeats. “Please?” There was a bit of a needy whine in his tone, which caught your immediate attention.

“Oka-mmph!” Before you could finish, he was already launching an all-out war on your mouth. Eventually, your initial tension ebbed and you relaxed. At some point, you allowed his tongue to slip past your lips.

He let out a low, rib-rattling groan that became caught and muffled in your throat as his claws dug into your shoulders. It was different than the playful, usually slightly mocking one he used; this time, he meant business. “Open yer damn legs-”

“Wh-”   
  
He gave your lips a final lick before sitting up and throwing the blanket back a bit. “I wanna see if yer pussy tastes as good as yer mouth does.”

Your eyes went as wide as saucers and then squeezed shut as you stammered out of shock, yet couldn’t bring yourself to protest. The idea was foreign and… it made you burn with curiosity as well as mortification. That kind of thing… it simply wasn’t done! At least, not in civilized bedrooms, but was there anything particularly civilized about Silver?

You took in a long, shuddering breath as you forced one eye open to find he’d hiked up your dress as high as it could go. You hesitantly shifted to give him a bit better access, but immediately looked away. That didn’t seem to sit well with Silver, as he reached up and grabbed your chin to make you look at him. “Yer gonna like this, sugahfoot.” He licked his teeth slowly, his grin widening. “ _ Trust me _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, everyone! I hope A Wanted Man will make you all as excited as my previous stories, considering I've had this plot bunny hopping around in my brain for a long time now. As always, there will be a playlist in the end notes for you all at some point. And, if you get the chance, please go check out my latest chapter of One-Shot Wonders because Silver made his debut in the House of Red chapter.


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